


The music in you

by HydrangeaPartridge



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Journalist!Jean, M/M, Singer!Marco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 10:33:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8976187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HydrangeaPartridge/pseuds/HydrangeaPartridge
Summary: Jean goes to his usual coffee shop to clear his mind, but something has changed there. He meets a young singer, Marco and is mesmerized by his voice.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sushipants](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sushipants/gifts).



> Merry Christmas everyone! This is a gift for sushipants!!
> 
> Their requests were the following:
> 
> Request 1: college au, punk!jean and marco is a sweetheart  
> • Description: maybe exams have finished, Jean and marco have been friends since childhood, very close their entire lives/verging on dating the whole time but both too shy
> 
> Request 2: modern day au, coffee shop singer marco and journalist!jean  
> • Description: jean goes to a coffee shop one sunday to clear his head and sees marco playing, he keeps coming back
> 
> I tackled request 2 because as a European person I don't feel too comfortable with college AUs, I don't exactly get how college works and also I had trouble finding something original enough because I probably read too many college AUs...  
> Coffee shop AU is cute and I'm sorry the story isn't so long because I kind of lacked the time to write more...  
> But anyway, it was fun writing this and I hope you will like it sushipants! :)

If one would ask Jean Kirschtein to describe his life in one word, he would say « gray ». This color suited him; was a perfect summary of his boring existence. The sky of the town he tried to exist in was gray, the same never ending streets he walked every day were gray. As gray as the dull cheap suit he was wearing. Even his apartment’s gray walls were bare, naked, cold from his lack of interest or motivation to decorate them.

You would think a journalist’s life would be exciting, that is what a younger college student Jean Kirschtein believed too when he was still naive, his eyes shining full of hope and dreams. Now as the years passed, everyday full of boring articles about closing start ups, mass redundancy, empty interviews sometimes intersected with tasteless movie reviews, Jean’s once sharp gaze turned gray. He wasn’t alert anymore, he who once was lying in wait for any scoop. He wasn’t inspired anymore, his talent for transporting the reader with passionate words and raise to light shameless abuse of men like he did a few years ago long forgotten, like it was just a memory from another time, another life, another him.

However, in this gray routine of his, there was a spot of color that reminded him each day that life wasn't so bad. This spot he passed every morning like he did right now. 

Jean inhaled, letting the strong yet comforting aroma of fresh brewed coffee fill his nostrils. His eyes fell on the small coffee shop's window and he had to refrain himself from licking his lips at the display of still warm pastries in front of him. As much as Jean liked his coffee jet black, he still had some kind of a sweet tooth and couldn't resist a good desserts. His stomach growled, hurrying him to push the coffee shop's entrance door. 

It was Jean Kirschtein's routine to have breakfast there every morning. He was a loyal customer and even though his paycheck wasn't so great, he decided long ago that he could afford this little treat everyday. It was almost his only pleasure of the day...

As he let the warmth of the small shop soothe his freezing body, Jean noticed something wasn't quite the same as everyday. He felt like an old person for being so perturbed by a small change in his routine.

His usually calm and quiet coffee shop had been invaded on this Monday morning of December by a young singer, the sound of his old guitar smoothly filling the usually music free room. As Jean approached the barista to order his usual black espresso, he couldn't help but stare at the musician newcomer. 

The guy looked young; he probably was in college studying some art or music stuff. He had short brown hair and soft brown eyes, and his face wasn't really noticeable unless for one feature: an army of freckles clouding the tip of his nose as well as his almost plump cheeks. The second noticeable thing about this musician was his clothing; it was.... let's say very far away from Jean's formal gray suit.

The musician wore a light pastel pink sweatshirt with flowers embroiled in tones of blue and green as well as light blue torn skinny jeans. Even though it wasn't a style Jean was used too, the man looked oddly good in these unusual clothes. 

The barista served Jean his coffee shooter as well as a cinnamon roll the journalist often took as breakfast. She smiled at the way her client almost rudely stared at her new employee. 

“That's Marco if you wondered. He's a friend of my sister and he needed a job so I offered him to put a little ambiance in this place. He'll be here in the morning before his classes and in the evening as well.” She explained even though Jean didn't ask a thing in the first place. “I hope a faithful customer like you will enjoy his singing.”

Jean absentmindedly nodded, his eyes still glued to “Marco”. Singing she said? So this Marco wasn't only here to play his guitar.

Jean sat down at his usual table, not changing his habits even though this particular table was the closest to the young musician who was currently sitting on the corner of the bar. 

For some reason Jean couldn't take his eyes off the young man. Perhaps it was because he was an intruder in the routine that was his everyday treat? The journalist couldn't tell. He took a sip of his bitter coffee to try and clear his unusually foggy mind before work.

And that's when Marco started to sing.

Jean had no words to describe that voice. It was nor feminine nor masculine so much it was something else; so much more than just the strong vibrato of an opera diva or the messy voice of a pop singer.

Marco's voice was... pure. With no flourishes, no unneeded style effects. It was perfect and Jean found himself listening almost religiously to the boy's simple humming, his coffee forgotten, left to cool down.

Songs went by, one by one, each better than the previous, and Jean got carried away by the music. At some point the journalist even let his head tilt from side to side in rhythm with Marco's sweet melody, going as far as closing his eyes....

Until he realized he was late for work. Terribly late.

In a flash, Jean got up and stormed out of the coffee shop, leaving his cold coffee and his half eaten cinnamon roll. His departure broke the cozy atmosphere of the small place, and left a certain musician puzzled, his song interrupted for a few seconds.

 

–--------

Jean sighed as he pushed open the cringing door of his gray apartment. His boss had called him to his office because of his delay at work in the morning. And saying the man who employed him was pissed was an understatement, for he was intransigent towards punctuality. 

As a result of his delay, Jean was sentenced to writing an article. Not that writing was hard for the journalist but said article was the kind he disliked the most. Indeed, Jean was given a holiday themed paper to punish him for his careless attitude.

“Something in this town to warm people's heart for Christmas” His boss vaguely ordered. 

Jean wasn't really a Christmas person and he also hated filling the newspapers with sappy columns. And on top of that, the article was due in two days.  
Jean was sure he would never be able to do it; the deadline was too short for such an uninspiring subject. He was probably going to get fired for that too... 

Resigned, the blond let himself fall onto his old couch. If only he didn't turn up to work late... It was all this Marco musician's fault... Although for some reason, Jean couldn't get angry at the boy. 

To tell the truth, Marco's songs kept playing non stop in the journalist's head all day; for his greatest pleasure. He had been mesmerized by the freckled man's voice; enchanted, hypnotized. He couldn't wait until the next morning so he could return to the coffee shop and hear that voice again. He would have to get up earlier, sure, to make sure he wouldn't be late for work this time. Yeah, that was a great idea! At least the small coffee shop and its newcomer singer could lift his down spirits.

Jean got up, about to go and adjust his alarm clock, when suddenly, the doorbell rang. Strange, he wasn't expecting anyone. His stressed out nature made Jean fear for a burglar but he quickly dismissed this idea. Burglars didn't ring. Still, he approached the door carefully and only half-opened it.  
Jean's jaw dropped as he was greeted with the most radiant of freckled smiles. 

“Hi” Marco beamed and Jean felt his whole body go warm. He was probably blushing.

The journalist was in shock, gripping his door firmly as he stared at Marco. Why was the man here? How did he even get his address?

“Um... This morning when you left, you were in such a hurry that you forgot your scarf. The barista wanted to bring it back to you but I offered to do it since it's getting pretty late...” Marco explained as he cutely scratched his freckled nose. “Your name's on the scarf and I found your address on google.”

Like magic all the answers to Jean's questions came from Marco's mouth. It was the first time the journalist heard the man's voice when simply talking and not singing. And boy, was it just as charming as his singing voice. 

Reassured, Jean fully opened the door and gestured for Marco to come in with a mumbled “Make yourself at home”.

Marco politely entered and placed Jean's folded scarf on the kitchen's counter. 

“Want something to drink?” Jean offered

“Oh, a coffee would be nice, jet black if possible”

Jean half smiled. They had the same taste in coffee. He begged Marco to sit down on the couch while he prepared the coffee. It felt weird to let a stranger inside his apartment, but at the same time, he didn't feel any threat from Marco. The man was the kind to make you feel at ease quickly, and he also clearly was a good Samaritan given how he fetched back his lost scarf... Seemed like Marco had everything for him; everything to please anyone.

Suddenly, an idea popped inside Jean's head. It was like the pieces of a puzzled that had been here all along just clicked together.

“So... Jean isn't it? If I may ask, what are you doing for a living?” Marco gave the blond the perfect opportunity he needed. It was like the freckled brunette was a Christmas gift put on Jean's path to pull him out of his gray existence.

“I am a journalist.” Jean proudly stated for the first time in years. “Speaking of which, I know we just met and it will sound odd to you but would you mind a little interview about yourself and the place you work?”

Marco blinked, his chocolate eyes round with surprise. But still, he nodded in acceptance. This interview thing sounded like a way to spend more time with the handsome man in a suit he developed a crush on the second he saw him in the small coffee shop.

“With great pleasure”

 

–--------

Two days later, there was an article about a small coffee shop in the news, talking about a young singer who divinely revisited the Christmas carols everyone loved. The shop's notoriety grew, and it soon became crowded with hot-chocolate craving Christmas lovers. The place had never been this lively.  
And if you went to that shop, everyday without failure, you could spot in the crowd a man in a gray suit sitting right next to the young singer. And if you looked more carefully, you could sometimes spot them holding hands.

**Author's Note:**

> It's been so long since I last wrote something, I feel rusty XD.  
> But I hope this wasn't too bad. 
> 
> Merry Christmas again to all JM lovers!!


End file.
